DADA After Hours
by DeepSeaFanglyFish
Summary: Some Remus Lupin/OC smut, featuring a Bella Swan-esque main character for you to fit yourself in perfectly. In which Remus is a professor and the OC is a Ravenclaw student, so if this bothers you then, you know, maybe don't read. And yeah, okay, I admit it, I didn't really even try with the title


Sitting with your friends at the Ravenclaw table in the great hall, you can feel his amber eyes burning a hole in the back of your head. You're sure that your friends notice, but they don't say anything. Professor Lupin isn't the kind of guy you'd expect to have any kind of... er, non-platonic relationship with a student, and so your friends don't really suspect anything's going on. When you think they're not paying attention, you turn to sneak a look over your shoulder at him, and he winks one of those smooth caramel eyes at you, a soft grin on his face. Your stomach floats up into your throat as you smile back; he'd handed back your essays on nonverbal spells that morning, and, scrawled on the bottom in his messy handwriting beneath your O, were the words, "Tonight, 10:00." Your heart had skipped a beat, thinking of the last time he'd written something like that to you, when he'd been sitting on his desk waiting for you with a cheeky smile on his face, and had proceeded to walk toward your spot frozen in the doorway, to pull you in and kiss you and shut the door behind you. Your cheeks heat up thinking about that night, and you figure you'd better pay attention to your friends before they get suspicious, loosening your tie to cool down. You can still feel him looking right at you. It's hard to focus on your friends' conversation.

You don't let yourself get too excited until you and your friends are a few of the last ones to leave the great hall at 8:30 that night. You hike your skirt up a bit to make it shorter, knowing that he's watching you as you leave. And it's a long walk to the common room, knowing that you have to wait an hour and a half to see him. You can barely focus enough to answer the riddle when you reach the common room.

"If you are traveling the speed of light in a car what happens if you turn your headlights on?"

It takes you a minute to answer that you wouldn't see them. And then the waiting is torture, dreaming of his hands and his sweet but seductive smile, of the way he'd whisper your name into the dark classroom and lean in and he'd smell like a strange but lovely combination of the used section in Flourish & Blotts and Honeydukes, his robes soft with wear, and kiss your neck, making you crane your head back involuntarily. A chill shudders down your spine at the memory, a blush up your neck, and you fight between leaving your uniform on for him and changing into lighter clothes because, damn, is it just you, or is it getting warm in here? You remember him sliding his hand under the pleats of your skirt and figure you'd better leave it on, though the memory doesn't exactly help. The cloak can probably come off, though, so you unsnap the clasp and slide it off. You decide to go up to the dorms to work on a potions essay due next week, but that only lasts a half an hour, half because you're uninterested and half because you don't have the books you need. You can't get over the fact that it's only 9:15, and you can't figure out if you should leave yet, because even though it's a long walk, you'll probably be early, and you don't want to seem anxious, but then you realize that he's probably looking forward to it just as much as you and you spritz on some perfume and head out. Your friends ask where you're going, and you say the library, an obvious lie as it closed an hour ago, but no one says anything as you slip out the common room door. You feel as if your hands are shaking as you make your way down the four flights of stairs, and once you're on the same floor as the classroom, your heart is pounding and your hands are sweating and your head is spinning. You feel like a nervous wreck, and you don't know why he has to do this to you. It's not until you push open the door to his classroom that the breath is really knocked out of you. He's sitting at his desk with a pair of reading glasses on, a thick book in his hands. As you step forward, you can see that the spine is cracked and the cover is worn, and you are reminded of the fact that you can't resist a guy who reads for fun. He puts a bookmark in and takes his glasses off, looking up at you with a smile, and then your steps quicken, and you slide into his lap and his arm winds easily around you as you dip in to kiss him.

"Hello to you, too," he says, resting his hand innocently on your thigh as he smiles. "How was your day?"

"Much better once I found out what I had to look forward to tonight."

"Glad I could brighten your day," he answers, amber eyes flecking with bits of gold. He seems genuinely happy, and your knees feel weak just thinking of the fact that it's because of you. "I was thinking we could go upstairs," he says, his eyes drifting off to the spiral staircase leading up to the DADA teacher's quarters. "If that's okay, I mean."

"_Okay_? Honestly, Remus, sometimes you're a little too modest."

He chuckles as you get up, taking your hand in his to lead you up the stairwell. His fingers gingerly turn the knob, and you give his hand a squeeze as he pulls you into the room. "I was just eying you at dinner last night," he tells you, "And I couldn't resist. I needed to see you again."

"You see me in class all the time," you tease.

"All of you," he answers, and he sounds so serious, his eyes shining with lust. "These uniforms cover far too much."

"You're welcome to take mine off," you answer.

"I think I might do just that," he answers, reaching over to unfasten your tie. His fingers lock around the navy blue and bronze striped fabric, but his eyes stay locked on yours, and you smile up at him softly. "It wasn't very nice of you to tease me the way you did in the Great Hall," he says. "I swear I almost snatched you right from your friends right then and there."

"What do you mean?" You tease, pleading ignorant.

"You know bloody well what I mean," he answers, "Hiking your skirt up like that. You shouldn't do that to me; I'm old, you might very well give me a heart attack."

"So dramatic," you joke as he pulls your tie from your collar, tossing it behind him. "And don't be so careless with my uniform. You'll have to take points tomorrow if I can't find my tie."

"I think I'd give some points if you showed up under-dressed, actually," he answers, leaning in to kiss your neck as he unbuttons your blouse down to the tip of the v-neck on your sweater. "I can't think of a teacher that would take points. I'm sure even McGonagall would love to see some more of your collarbone."

"You're such a git sometimes," you say, but you're smiling, you can't help it. Your heart protests as he pulls away, but then you realize it's just to pull your sweater over your head, and you lift your arms to help him.

"I do hate these school sweaters," he says. "Always have. They hide girls' beautiful figures so well."

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as he gingerly begins to unbutton your blouse the rest of the way. You'd been rushed to get ready this morning and hadn't thought to put an undershirt on, but now you don't exactly mind the decision as he eyes your bra like you eye chocolate frogs during your time of the month. He moves to push your shirt off completely once it's open, his hands lingering on the narrowest part of your waist, his eyes filled with longing. These are your favorite moments: when he, a perfect gentleman, is reduced to a lust-filled animal when you're alone.

"This isn't exactly fair," you say, finally bringing his eyes back up to yours, as you shrug your button-up off completely. "You're still fully dressed, robes and all."

He looks amused. "Yeah? We can fix that." His fingers hesitantly move from your soft waist and begin to work at the button on his cloak, letting it fall open. He takes it off, turning to lay it over the back of his armchair in the corner of the room. "Better?"

"Not even close," you say, reaching in to unbutton his dress shirt. "That wasn't exactly an equal trade."

"I suppose," he answers, but he sounds distant, and you blush once you realize he's staring at your chest again. You guess you can't judge, though, because that's exactly what you're doing as you push his shirt off of his shoulders. He hasn't got anything like a quidditch player's chest, and he's covered in scars from his nights during the full moon, but he's gorgeous in his own charming, gentle way, and your heart swoons as he grins at you, tossing his shirt carelessly onto the chair. "You look like you've never seen me shirtless before."

"Oh, believe me," you tell him. "I have. Every night, in fact."

"Smooth," he answers with that same blissful grin, reaching down to unbutton your shirt. You step out of your black flats to slide your skirt down, and he eyes flicker with something sweet as you step out of it. "I love these sexy schoolgirl stockings," he comments as he hooks his finger into them. They come up just above your knee, with a thin blue and bronze stripe near the top. He lifts you up suddenly, carrying you to the bed. You take the opportunity to hook your knees around his hips, and he sighs at the contact.

"Problem?" you ask jokingly.

"Quite the opposite," he answers as he sets you down on the foot of the bed, squatting down to take your stockings off. "You have such lovely legs."

"Thank you, sexy."

His lips twitch at your compliment, and you can't wait until he's done and he pushes you back onto the bed so you can finally kiss them. And it's not too much longer before he is, and he leans up to kiss you, tasting faintly of chocolate and the treacle tarts from dinner and something that's just plain Remus. He pushes you gently, and you give in easily, falling back against his soft mattress, pulling him with you. He lets out this quiet moan that twists your stomach in knots, and it has you reaching down to get to work on his belt. You pull away, this time, to kiss his jaw, his day old stubble rough against your lips. The buckle's undone in record time, and then the button on his slacks and then the zipper, and as you sit up, he lifts his hips to allow you to pull them down. They fall to the floor along with his shoes and socks, the soles of his dress shoes making a thud as they hit the floor.

And then he's all yours, from his muscled legs to the prominent bulge in his boxers to his scarred chest. You reach forward to finally tug the last bit of fabric from him, but he grabs your wrists gently to stop you, shaking his head with a soft smile. "That wouldn't exactly be fair," he teases, mimicking you. "Come here." He sits up a bit and you scoot a bit closer, anxious as his hands wind around behind your back and fuss with your bra strap. It's off in a few seconds, and he leans in to give you a soft, loving kiss as he drops it to the floor next to the bed. "Okay. Go ahead."

You shake your head at him with a grin. "You missed your chance," you say huskily as you reach down, toying with the waistband of his boxers. "You shouldn't tease a girl who's about to put her hand down your pants."

"Note taken," he says, watching your hand intently as it slips down to rub him through the plaid fabric. He groans in response, leaning his head back. "Shit," he says, cursing for the first time that night. "Now who's teasing who?"

"I never denied that I was teasing you," you say with a grin, laying back down beside him to snog him, your hand still massaging his member through the thin layer of cotton. One of his hands wraps around your waist, and you peek an eye open to catch the other with a handful of blanket and white knuckles, and you feel a new wave of heat flood your body, your head swimming and your stomach twisting.

"You're pure evil, you know that?" He asks when you pull away, opening one eye to glance into yours.

"Fine," you give in, and begin to pull them down. "You sure?"

"Come on," he says, sounding exasperated but smiling, and you figure you've toyed with him enough, so you tug the material down, exposing his shaft. You've seen it before, many times, but it never fails to make your stomach clench, to make your heart pound and your palms sweat, that you've gotten someone like him all hot and bothered. You barely take the time to get his boxers all the way to the floor before your hand is around his length, warm but firm in your hand, and he moans again, abandoning his usual reserve. "Merlin," he cries as you pull his foreskin down with your thumb, letting his juice flow down his length before rolling it back up. You set back to work on his neck, wanting to leave a few marks there before you head back to your dorm tonight. By the sounds slipping out of his throat, he's quite impressed with your multitasking. "I- Okay," he tries to get out, his voice breaking as you rub the pad of your thumb in gentle circles along the tip of his head. "You can see how turned on I am," he says, pushing your hand away. "But how are you doing?" And then he flips the both of you over so that he's on top of you, supporting himself on one elbow as he reaches a hand down. You part your legs in anticipation, and that's just where he goes. Pushing the fabric out of his way, he runs a finger between your folds. "Just as bad as me, it seems," he assesses, smirking. You want to snog it right off of his face, but you don't think you can lean up, his finger, now rubbing in circles around your clit, making your back as weak as it is. A weak whimper escapes your throat without your permission, and he chuckles, sliding a finger inside of you. "Merlin, you're soaking," he emphasizes, leaning down to kiss your neck this time. He takes your skin gently between his teeth, and you know it's going to bruise, but with the shivers running down your back, it's hard to care.

"Remus, you're killing me," you say, because you know he's throbbing too, and really you just want him inside of you, his body against yours.

"One more minute," he murmurs. His one finger's turned into two, pumping in and out of you, and he moves down to kiss your breasts, first the top of the left one then the underside, then taking a moment to enjoy your nipple before moving to the other. "You're so gorgeous," he says, his voice husky as his stubble rubs against your breast.

"_Remus_," you plead. He's driving you off the deep end.

His fingers finally slide all of the way out, and you almost lose it right then and there when he brings them up to his lips and begins to leisurely lick your juices from them. Each passing second brings your cheeks a shade closer to tomato red, and you're about to reach over and grab his wrist when he reaches back down to pull your panties off. "Did you want something?" he asks with a sly grin.

"Fuck me," you say, and he looks amused by your desperation, but he wants it as bad as you do, so he adjusts himself over you and captures your lips in his as he suddenly fills you with one jerk of his hips, sending a shock of pleasure up your stomach. As his lips trail along your smooth jawline, you watch his hips move up and down as he fills you again and again, your chest beginning to hurt from the effort of suppressing the moan at the base of your throat.

"Come here," he says when he pulls away for a moment. His face stays buried in your shoulder as he reaches down to grab your leg, pulling it around his waist. You wind the other around him to match, and the moan finally escapes at this new angle. You hadn't thought that it was possible for it to get better, but now it seems he's found a way to brush your clit with each thrust, and the pleasure is multiplied. You move to meet his thrusts, and though he's been quiet this whole time, a low husky moan now slips out right near your ear. "Shit," he moans. "What are you doing to me?"

Not enough, you decide, and you push him over so that you're on top, resting your hands on his chest for support as you lift yourself up, beginning to ride him. His eyes were closed, but they peek open now to watch, training on your breasts bouncing against your chest as you move up and down. He seems really close, but you are too, and he's hitting the perfect spot at this angle. Your hip movements get sloppy, and his hazy eyes move up to yours. He reaches his hands to your hips to steady you, and you could kill him for it, but you feel far too good to be angry for long.

"I'm really close," he mumbles, still looking right at you, and you nod softly in agreement. Even he's given up, although his knuckles are still white around your hips, and each thrust is now erratic, until finally the muscles in your elbows give out as you hit your climax, falling to his chest as your muscles convulse around his length. He moans unintelligibly as he follows you, and you both lie like that, your head on his chest, as you wait for your heartbeats to slow in your ears.

It's so calming, the silence in the room, nothing besides your heavy breathing making a sound. Well, and his heart pounding right next to your ear.

"Hi," he says softly to get your attention, still out of breath.

You giggle as you turn to glance up into his big golden eyes. "Invite me up here more often, yeah?"

"You got it," he says with a grin.

"Or," you begin, pulling yourself away from him to move onto the bed next to him. He turns to face you, eyes listening, hooking an arm around your bare waist. "You know, just to... whatever. I like being with you in ways other than this, too."

He looks so happy at this news that you have to hold back a smile. "Yeah, of course. Me too. You just show up in that schoolgirl outfit and I can't help myself."

"Well... I am a schoolgirl."

He laughs as he pulls the blanket over you, and Merlin, you haven't been this happy in a long time. "Do you have to leave? Stay here tonight."

"Remus," you protest.

"You don't have to," he answers, "of course."

"But I want to, and you shouldn't be taunting me like that," you complain, snuggling up to his bare chest. "Now I won't be able to leave."

"Good," he says. "Tomorrow's tomorrow. Don't think about it."

All you can do is laugh, because honestly, you're already falling asleep, and his arms around you and his chest as your pillow and his gentle breathing moving a few stray hairs into your face with each rise and fall of his chest makes it much easier than it would be alone in your own bed.

* * *

Yeah... I wrote this for my friend (aren't I a good person?) and figured I might as well post it. It's... yeah. Okay. I feel awkward

I have some LJ stories up as well. I'm also writing some SBRL but it's not going well?

Reviews make me happy :)


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